


Zehzagriklalkheled

by InsanitysxCreation



Series: Silver Blades and Gold Medals [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gloin/canon wife - Freeform, I'm talking glacially slow, M/M, Minor Bullying, Slow Burn, bountiful creative license taken, canon elf vs dwarf racism, gigolas bang 2014, possibly inaccurate portrayls of ice skating, will tag more as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanitysxCreation/pseuds/InsanitysxCreation
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each race in Arda has a sport they usually excel in when it comes to the Olympic Winter Games. Oh sure, there is the occasional upset in the pattern, or nations that switch every few years, but for the most part hobbits conk out the competition in curling, men zoom down the ski slopes, elves dance graceful as the wind over ice in figure skating, and dwarves bash and smash their way to golden goals in hockey. Other sports may be contested between the competitors and give a variation in winners, but those sports usually tell where a nation's children will compete.</p><p>Gimli has never prided himself on being the most usual of dwarves. And though figure skating has long been considered an Elvish sport, Gimli's passion may change all that.</p><p>Join Gimli on his quest for victory and gold in this Olympic-inspired love story: love of sport, love of family, love of country, and, above all, the unexpected love of a rival.</p><p>Currently under construction! Reworked chapters and new content to come!<br/>Edit 2-19-2017: The first four chapters have all been reworked!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Begin

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the recognizable characters or names herein, as they belong to the Tolkien estate. Nor do I own the Olympics; I would have a lot more money if I did. I'm just having fun, no profit is made from this.  
> Also, please note that Archive of Our Own and Livejournal are the only sites I have posted this story to. No other site has my permission to host this story; if you see any of my works on another site, PLEASE CONTACT ME.  
> PLEASE DO NOT REPOST THIS STORY. PLAGIARISM IS ILLEGAL.  
> \------------------------
> 
> A huge thank you to Khuzdul4u on Tumblr for the title. Literally, it’s “first-(to slice)-ice”. I chose this concept for the title because it's sort of like "groundbreaking", the idea that Gimli is the first to make a mark. 
> 
> This story would not have been possible without my amazing-fantastic beta, Scarletjedi, who stepped up at the last minute to help me sort out grammar and iron out ideas. Ten million thanks to you, my dear.
> 
> Thanks also to my artist, Dedicatedfollower467, who let me bounce ideas off them, helped with minor edits, and created amazing artwork that you'll see in the second half. You were great to work with!  
> ~~~~~  
> A brief history/explanation of this Middle Earth:  
> Culturally, this world is very close to Tolkien's world, but with modern technology. So the geography and history are basically the same, and the core of the cultures are the same. Dwarves still mine the old fashioned way, though. They have a lot of traditions they keep, including weapons training because there are still dangers in the world.  
> The history is changed in that there was no Dragon in Erebor, and Isildor tossed the damn ring in the volcano.  
> In the modern aspect, the dwarves make a lot of electronics and whatnot. Cell phones were developed from walkie talkies made to communicate in the mines, cars developed from carts, etc. So there's an entire part of the mountain that puts out electronics. They mine the ore, turn it into metal, and put it straight into circuit boards. Their delicate jewelry-making skills transitioned nicely into laying delicate electronic parts. The Iron Hills are the leading car and machinery producers. They still make weapons, of course, and jewelry. They also export various metal components and glasswork.  
> Elves export mostly wine, furniture, lots of paper and books, and glasswork, as well as weapons based in wood like bows and staffs. Hobbits have lots of preserves/canned goods and foodstuffs, furniture, as well as seeds for farming, some paper and books, and cloth. Men do lots of clothing, cloth, livestock, leather and hides, some weapons, some paper and books, glues, and plastic stuff.  
> They don't have nearly as much pollution as we do, though, because the elves keep the forests healthy and there's a lot of solar energy and whatnot instead of coal or nuclear power plants.  
> ~~~~  
> sorry for the long note. on with the story!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 2/7/2017.  
> A huge thank you to Papertigress, who first rekindled my passion for this story, then helped me immensely as my beta. Without you, I'm not sure this story would ever have been worked on again.
> 
> This chapter is rewritten from the original. I've marked the other, original chapters as "under construction" to denote that they haven't been changed and won't fit with the rewritten ones.

    Ever since Gimli first put bladed boot to smooth ice, the rental skates awkward on his feet, he knew it was where he belonged. The peace he gained from gliding over frozen water, the weightlessness that came with that smooth glide-- that was happiness.

    His father was ecstatic, and his mother was supportive. Erebor had one of the finest hockey leagues in the world and an Olympic-winning national hockey team, and Gimli showed amazing natural talent and potential for greatness. He was enrolled in his first basic skating class when he was ten, only a few years after he learned to run without falling over.

    He was thirteen when he watched the Lady Galadriel compete in figure skating during the Winter Olympics. He stared transfixed, wide-eyed with awe, at the television for her entire performance while his parents scoffed behind him on the couch. When she stopped and the crowd roared, Gimli turned to his father, pointed at the television, and said, "That. I want to skate like that."

    It was preposterous; who had ever heard of a dwarf being good at figure skating? Their sturdy, stout bodies made them ideal for the sometimes violent sport of hockey, but figure skating? A useless sport that focused on being pretty and skating in circles? Leave that to the long-legged elves and Men.

    Nothing could dissuade him, however. Gimli was insistent and determined, so despite the teasing, despite the bullying and harassment, despite everything everyone said, Gimli booked private time at his local ice rink and taught himself to figure skate. He did his research, had custom skates made for him based on the international design, ones that would flex with his feet while providing support. He stayed up late watching footage from old competitions and got up early to train. His father scoffed at the design of the skates but footed the bill himself. A soundtrack of noncommittal grunts and grumbled complaints of how uncomfortable the rink bleachers were could be heard at every practice he attended, which was almost all of them. Though he didn't know why Gimli was so drawn to figure skating, he understood passion for a craft and encouraged his son to follow where his heart led him, as his own father had for him.

    Gimli was a natural skater for sure, but he fell. He fell a lot. He came to classroom lessons bruised and aching, and left combat training twice as battered, but every other evening he laced up his skates and he kept trying. He learned from his mistakes, corrected his technique, and improved his balance. After his lessons for the day, he would spend an hour or two in the local library, digging through the sports and history sections for any mention of ice skating that he could use as reference. A few junior librarians helped him dig through the archives, unearthing a few rare records of dwarven ice skaters from centuries ago, though none were from Erebor. They promised him they’d apply to search the national library’s archives as well, though they warned him that could take time to go through. He had more luck with modern sports magazines, though none of the articles were aimed at or about dwarves. The concepts were foreign, but the more he read the more he understood. Online instructional videos were a huge help, for all they were limited to Men or elves producing them. Once he learned something, he went to the rink to attempt it.

    The first time he landed a simple jump felt like he had climbed a mountain and flown home. It was exhilarating and wonderful and he wanted to do it again and again.

    It was a lonely path. Gimli didn’t make many friends in school, most of his focus on his sport and his studies. He was at the rink a few days a week, practicing hard, a single shape on the vast expanse of ice. Most of his classmates didn’t understand his interest, so they teased him for liking an “elfish” sport. A few insulted him to his face, calling him “undwarflike;” most of those found there was nothing undwarven about his punches. But Gimli learned to take their confusion and derision and turn it into fire that propelled him across the ice. Their words powered his strokes, their blows launched him into the air. As the years passed, some of his bullies grew tired of ineffectual hate and started to gain reluctant respect for his dedication.

    The young, ambitious dwarf learned all he could from other performers, adjusting their moves to his body. For the most part, he was successful. He did what he could with what he had, but his father, watching him from the stands as he spun around the rink, could see how jerky his moves were, could see how unrefined he was.

    Gimli was good, but he needed a coach.

****

    Dori paused when he heard a shout of pain, shifting the large basket of neatly folded hockey jerseys to his hip. He was only here to deliver the replacement jerseys for the youth teams, but if someone needed help he was ready to give it. The sound of metal on ice led him out into the main rink, where a single figure was skating. He frowned, tracking the dwarf with his eyes. It couldn’t be-

    But it was. Though sloppy, the moves the child used were distinctly for ice dancing, not hockey. Dori watched the competitions in the winter, enjoying the flash and dazzle of the costumes and the artistry of the moves. He’d never seen a dwarf do them before. A red hat in the bleachers caught his attention and he made his way over to the dwarf in the stands, original task forgotten.

    “Hello,” he said when he was close enough to be heard. The dwarf jumped; they’d been so focused on the skater, they hadn’t heard him come up. “I apologize. Are you the coach?”

    “No, I’m his father.” The dwarf held out his hand. “Glóin, son of Groin. Why do you ask?”

    Dori shook his hand. “Dori, son of Kori.  I can’t help but notice your lad is doing his damndest to figure skate. I’ve never heard of a dwarf in the sport and I have watched a lot of it. Does he have a coach?”

    “No, unfortunately.” Glóin harrumphed into his beard, a thin cloud of mist billowing in front of his face. “If I could find one for him, I’d have them here faster than you could light a forge even if I had to travel to the Blue Mountains to get them. That is, if there was a dwarf knowledgeable enough in the sport to help him.” Glóin grimaced. “I can’t bring in a Man to coach him, and I refuse to take my pebble where tree-shaggers can gawp at him as he learns.”

    In the rink, Gimli’s toe pick caught the ice as he tried to glide forward on one foot and he fell hard on his front with a yelp, his arms shielding his face from the ice. As the adults watched, he picked himself up to his knees, brushed the ice crystals from his arms, and shakily stood. He pushed off, gliding back to the other side to begin his routine again.

    Dori set the basket down absently as he watched for a few minutes, frowning; the routine was ambitious, too advanced for the level of foundational movement the child had. Glóin, too, was watching. After Gimli stumbled again, Dori cleared his throat.

    “If I may... I haven’t skated in quite a few years, but I’ve watched a lot of figure skating. I own a few documentaries on the sport, as well. I have a few hours to spare while I wait for my brother to finish his work at the library. I usually find a quiet cafe and knit for that time, but I could come here instead and teach your lad what I know. It’s not much I’m afraid-” He cut himself off when he turned to Glóin; the dwarf looked like Dori had just handed him a fist full of fire opals.

    Glóin grasped one of his hands between both of his. “Any help you can give to Gimli would be a blessing.”

    Dori patted his hand as he sat beside him. “I’m no expert on doing the complicated moves, but I can point out anything that doesn’t look right from an onlooker’s point of view. At the very least, I can help him with the basics until you find a better solution.” He chuckled. “What I don’t know, I can learn. There’s just about everything on the Internet these days.”

    “That’s more than I can do. When can you start?”

    Dori hummed, flipping through his schedule in his head. “I’ll need to speak with my brother, but perhaps this Foursday. Does Gimli have a set training schedule yet?”

    Gimli’s watch beeped with an alarm for his water break and he skated to the wall, panting and soaked with sweat. The water he gulped from his bottle was amazingly refreshing. He closed his eyes, exhaling a cloud of mist, then opened them as he raised the bottle again. His eye caught on movement in the bleachers and he was surprised to see his father talking to someone. Glóin nodded and shook the other dwarf’s hand, then they picked up a basket and left. Gimli tracked the dwarf out with his eyes until his father asked why he stopped. Shaking his head, he put the dwarf out of his thoughts and focused back on the ice, determined to get the swizzle right this time.

   

    When Gimli arrived at the rink on Foursday with his father, a white-haired dwarf was waiting for them in the concessions area by the rink entrance. With surprise, Gimli realized it was the same dwarf Glóin had been speaking to the practice before last. He greeted them with a smile and a stack of papers.

    “Good evening. Dori, son of Kori, at your service.”

    “Gimli, son of Glóin, at yours,” Gimli replied automatically, his brows furrowed.

    Glóin walked over and greeted Dori like he knew him well, slapping a hand on his shoulder with a big grin. “Good to see you again! I can’t tell you how happy I am you showed up.”

    Dori saw Gimli’s baffled look and nodded toward Glóin with a small smile. “I spoke with your father at one of your practices and while I am no expert, I agreed to teach you what I know of ice skating. That is, if you are agreeable to being taught--”

    “Yes!” Gimli exclaimed, cutting into Dori’s sentence. He flushed and said in a calmer voice, “I mean, yes, please, thank you, I would be honored if you’d teach me.”

    “I’m glad,” Dori replied, his smile crinkling his eyes. He patted the table next to the stack of papers. “I’d like to talk to you about skating basics and map out our training plan.”

    They sat at the table while Glóin went to the rink’s food station to get a cup of káfe for them all. Dori pulled out a stack of diagrams for Gimli to study and opened the laptop Gimli hadn’t noticed behind all the papers.

    “How did you learn to skate as you do?” Dori asked. “There aren’t any classes here in the Mountain.”

    “ViewHub, mostly. There are some great videos on the basics of skating, but the moves the Men do can be hard to adapt.” His fingers drummed the edge of the table, unable to hold in all of his excited energy.

    Dori nodded and opened his laptop, typing on the keyboard for a moment. “That is good for visualizing the moves, but I think you’ll develop best with a slightly different approach.” He turned the laptop around. On the screen was a video with the title “The Science of Skating on Ice.” “Some Men in Minas Tirith put this together. It’s very thorough and it will help you understand how the moves you learn work on the ice.” Gimli eagerly reached for the touchpad to start the video, but Dori held up a hand. “I’ll send you this video and other links so you can watch them at home. It would be good to do a few physical lessons now, though, while we’re here and have the ice booked.” Gimli nodded, his eyes bright with excitement. Learning skating this way, a very dwarven approach, would be so much better than the guesswork he’d done up until now. When Dori asked for one of his skates, he hurriedly unearthed it from his duffle bag. Dori removed the cap from the blade and held the skate with the blade pointing up.

    “Tell me what you know of an ice skating blade,” the older dwarf instructed. As Gimli collected his thoughts and scraps of knowledge, Glóin returned from the food station with three steaming cups of káfe. He sat on the other side of the table from the coach and pupil, interested but keeping out of their way.

    “A figure skating blade doesn’t have a single solid point,” Gimli said slowly, recalling what the craftsman who made his skates told him. “It’s actually two points of a recessed curve and skaters have to balance on the points to glide.” He looked at the skate, more information surfacing in his mind. “And most spins are on the ball of the foot, so that’s why there’s an extra support there. The picks are to keep the blade from slipping around during precision moves.”

    “That’s correct! I’m glad to see you’ve done some research. It’s always best to know your tools.” Gimli beamed at the compliment. Dori dragged his finger along the outside of the blade, pointing as he spoke. “There are four edges on a figure skating blade,” Dori explained. “A forward and backward inside edge, and a forward and backward outside edge. Every move will use one of these edges, and mastering switching edges is vital. The videos I have will teach you more about that, better than I can at any rate. Since you understand those basics, let’s see what bad habits you’ve taught yourself.” He capped the blade and handed the skate back to Gimli. “I’ll meet you at rink. I expect you’ll have your skates on and be ready to warm up by the time I get down there.”

    Gimli complied with an eager, “Yes, Master Dori,” ran through the doors to the rink itself. Dori and Glóin chuckled and, after Dori hand the papers for Gimli to Glóin and packed his things, the two made their way to the rink at a more reasonable pace. Gimli was laced up and near bouncing in the bottommost bleacher. Dori taught him a few warm-up stretches before directing him onto the ice. Dori put him through his paces, making him skate around the rink many times before he let him try anything fancy. Glóin watched his son zoom back and forth across the ice for an hour before Dori called him to stop.

    “Well, you have talent, that’s for sure, but it is more like raw ore than refined metal. We’ll need to talk to Dwalin about adjusting your weapons training to a routine that focuses on flexibility. And I’ll have my younger brother look into some exercises you can do on your own - he’s a librarian, you know, -  perhaps that yoga the Men favor-” Gimli’s groan got him a sharp but wry look. “At least I’m not making you do ballet. All elvish and most Men skaters have to take years of ballet before they are allowed to compete.”

    “That would be a complete disaster,” Gimli grumbled.

    “We’ll work on your leg strength, too, you’ll need it to get height on your jumps. Speaking of which, no more jumping until you know how to do it properly.” Dori held up his hand, cutting off any protests. “No, Gimli. It is dangerous if you don’t do it correctly. Many skaters are taken out of the ranks before they ever compete due to an injury sustained in practice.”

    “So what _will_ I get to do?”

    “Basics. We have to teach your body to do specific moves at any moment and to hold very specific poses.” He stared Gimli down, his expression serious. “This will be difficult, Gimli. It will take every moment of free time you have, and your full dedication. This is not something to do on a whim. Are you ready to make that commitment?”

    Gimli stood up tall and proud, his skates giving him extra height. “I am.”

    “Then we start tomorrow evening at 6:30 sharp. Be here and ready to go and we’ll start smelting that talent of yours into skills worthy of showing the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skating terms reference:  
> Swizzle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2bzX5taswY


	2. To Teach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 2-7-2017  
> A HUGE thank you to PaperTigress for betaing and pushing me! Two edited chapters in one night is very exciting for me!
> 
> You will notice this chapter is changed quite a bit. Thorin won't come in until later in the story, so Dori is the main coach.

    Glóin came home to his son spinning in his office chair. He watched him spin one direction for three minutes, then switched directions to spin the other way.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked.

"Spinning. Coach Dori said it'll get me used to the fast spins I'll have to do and teach me not to get dizzy. I'm supposed to unfocus my eyes while spinning for five minutes in each  direction, every day." There was a hard note of determination in Gimli's voice, so Glóin left him to his training and went to greet his beautiful wife. 

Mizim accepted his whiskery kiss with an indulgent smile and gestured for him to help her. He washed his hands and she handed him some potatoes to peel while she deftly cut the bone out of the shank of venison on her cutting board.

"Dori told him to spin for ten minutes; I’ve barely been able to pry that boy off the chair since he got home from lessons half an hour ago," She commented, glancing at him between cuts. “He’s fallen off at least twice-” A muffled thump and smack of metal on tile came from the other room. “-thrice.”

“Have you known our little star to give anything he liked less than three-hundred percent effort?” Pride colored his voice, while Glóin's brows furrowed slightly as he carved away a particularly stubborn eye. "It is good to see our son so dedicated to his craft."

"Yes, though I fear you'll have to replace that chair before the year is out, with all the spinning he's doing," Mizim chuckled. She placed the freed bone into a pot to make into stock and turned toward the study door, wiping her hands on a towel. “Gimli! Go wash up!” Gimli’s reply was accompanied by staggered steps. She shook her head fondly. 

    The months passed quickly. Under Dori’s strict but fair guidance, Gimli bloomed. Dori began practices by showing Gimli videos of a particular move, the two of them breaking it down into easily understood components. Gimli had at least a theoretical knowledge of the move before his skates hit the ice, and Dori directed him from the sidelines, able to see from afar when he was positioned incorrectly. He was quick to point out flaws, but equally quick to praise a move well done. Practices were now exhausting, Dori pushing Gimli past limits he didn’t even know he had. 

    After showing and explaining a move or step pattern, Dori would work Gimli through that move until he could execute it the same every time. That included a lot of shouted instructions. They were currently working on spin sets.

“Keep your arms straight! If they flop all over the place you make drag and knock you off balance! And bring that leg up! Keep it straight!”

Gimli gritted his teeth but did as he was told, coaxing his aching muscles into the correct position for his spin. He knew it would get easier with time, but right now his body was unused to the odd positions he needed it to be in. This was the first time Dori had him stringing the more advanced moves together after learning them last month. He gave it his all, but his muscles ached deeply by the end of practice.

“Now into a back scratch!”

His muscles screamed at him as he stretched his arms over his head, bringing his leg down into a tight and fast spin that seemed to go on forever.

“Out and reverse into a camel!”

Gimli faltered exiting his spin, not cutting his momentum well enough. His reversed spin went out of control and his skate flew out from under him. He hit the ice with a thud and a groan.

“Get up and try again if you’re not hurt,” Dori instructed, skating over to where Gimli lay panting on the ice to explain where he went wrong. Dori wasn’t as good at stopping on the ice as Gimli - though he had learned a few of the simple moves to get around the ice better - so he braced himself on the low wall while Gimli got to his feet.

This pattern repeated every time. He could jump, he could spin, but as soon as he went to reverse spin, he would always fall.

“Can’t I just spin on my other foot?” Gimli whined after a particularly winding fall. Dori raised his thick eyebrows.

“You can try, though it will be much more difficult. Few that I’ve found can spin in both directions, let alone on the same foot. It is equivalent to being able to write with both the left and right hand equally well.”

“I’ll do it,” Gimli said, getting to his feet with a fresh spark of determination in his eyes. Dori hid a grin in his beard. There was that Firebeard heritage shining through: the most assured way of getting Gimli to try something was to present it as a challenge. It was both useful and infuriating.

“Very well. Take a five minute water break, then we’ll try on the other foot.”

They spent the rest of the session drilling spins that reversed direction. Sometimes it was a spin executed over a number of steps when getting out, but most of the time, Gimli switched directions midspin. Using the same foot benefited him greatly. Dori wasn't sure why that was, but he would not check a gifted stone for flaws. Gimli felt off when they were done, even after skating his cool down, so Dori prescribed more at-home spinning to get him used to prolonged spins.

"As long as my entire routine isn't spins, I'll be fine," he groused mutinously, but agreed with his coach. He left the rink grumbling about squeaky chairs and too much spinning.

"Not natural for  _ anyone _ to spin that much..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if my descriptions of the moves are incorrect or impossible to do, please let me know!
> 
> Also, I made up the names for the days of the week because I couldn't find anything close in canon. It's a seven day week, with Onesday (Monday) as the first day. I figured a numbered week would be easy to keep track of. :P
> 
> EDIT 2-7-2017: Here are some links demonstrating the moves mentioned in this chapter! If you have questions on any other skating terms, please feel free to ask!  
> Back scratch spin: https://youtu.be/gC0jfpHTMgo  
> Camel spin: https://youtu.be/Gi4wH5f1Sa8
> 
> Please, please comment and let me know what you think of the new material!


	3. To Befriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 2/17/2017  
> This chapter is much longer than the last, with lots of added content from its original form!  
> Again, a HUGE thanks to Papertigress for helping me! This chapter took a lot of work to redo and their insight was invaluable

     “What are you doing?”

     The voice echoed around the rink, startling Gimli. It wasn’t bad enough to make him lose his focus, however, and he finished his footwork pattern before looking around for the source. A dwarf in a hockey jersey with a heavy-looking duffel bag over one shoulder was staring at him in shock. Gimli looked to Dori, who sighed and called out, “Two minute break.” Gimli nodded and skated closer to the newcomer so they wouldn’t have to shout across the ice. As he approached, he took in the appearance of the dwarf.

     He had fine blond hair, two braids framing his face with others holding the rest of his hair back. His moustache was braided as well, beads glinting against his sleek beard. It was not a very large beard, but then he was only perhaps a couple decades older than Gimli and most hockey players kept their beards styled short or braided close to the skin, to keep them out of the way. There was something familiar about the dwarf’s face, but Gimli swore he had never met him before. Gimli reached the wall near the newcomer and dug his toe pick into the ice, leaning against the wall.

     “Are you...figure skating?” the blond asked, blinking slowly. His tone was rather rude, Gimli thought with a huff, almost horrified like he had caught the redhead doing something disgusting.

     “Aye.” He looked the dwarf up and down again before his curiosity got the better of him. “Are you on the hockey team? I thought you didn’t practice until later?”

     “Yes, I... I thought the rink would be empty and I wanted to practice my slapshot,” the blond responded. He shook himself and gave a short bow. “Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. I am Fíli, son of Vili, at your service.”

     “Gimli, son of Glóin, at yours,” Gimli replied, bowing his head. “I have the rink for twenty more minutes, but after that you are welcome to use it.”

     “Ah. Do you mind if I watch?” Fíli asked curiously, dumping his bag onto a bleacher with an echoing thud. “I’ve never seen a dwarf figure skating before.”

     Gimli eyed him warily. “Aye, I’m sure it’s quite the spectacle. You’ll be wanting to tell all your hockey buddies, hmmm?”

     “No! Well,” Fíli flushed a little, huffing out a cloud of mist. His eyes met Gimli’s after a moment of thought. “I’ve never seen a dwarf look as graceful as you did then. Even my teammates don’t have the control you do on the ice.”

     Gimli narrowed his eyes, looking the slightly older dwarf over for signs of deceit. Finding none, he grumbled but nodded. “Fine. But please don’t make a lot of noise, I need to focus on my footwork.”

     “Of course. I’ll just sit over here. Not a ping from me.” Fíli mimed zipping his lips and sat down on the bleacher beside his bag after spreading a light jacket under him to shield him from the chilled stone.

     Gimli gave him a look, then pushed off and skated around the rink, warming up his muscles again after standing still for even such a short amount of time. He worked up speed, then banked, cutting his speed until he could work the moves slowly to train himself out of mistakes. At first, he felt hyper aware of the eyes following him and stumbled a few times because of it. However, soon he fell back into the rhythm of his sport and the feeling of being watched faded until he could focus solely on his tasks. He had just done a salchow correctly and was congratulating himself when Dori gave him a five minute warning. He skated slowly around the rink, cooling off, and startled slightly when he saw the blonde had been joined by a younger brunette. Both were watching him with wide eyes and he gave a shy little wave to the brunette, who grinned back. They walked over to him as he left the ice, hobbling quickly to the closest bleacher so he could put the caps Dori handed him on his blades and take his skates off.

     The brunette stopped a few feet away from him and bowed. “Kíli, son of Vili,” he introduced himself before cheerfully flopping onto the bench beside Gimli. “That was amazing! You’re even better than my brother or uncle on the ice!”

     “Erm, thanks.” Gimli looked at him curiously. "Are you on the hockey team?"

     "He is, I'm not," Kíli said, leaning back so his elbows rested on the bleacher behind them, "I do winter biathlons, and archery in the summer."

     "It’s a good thing he’s not on the ice, he ends up on his arse more than he hits the puck, and that’s before anyone opposes him," Fíli mocked affectionately, opening his duffle bag. “Unlike myself, of course. I am a magnificent hockey player,” he boasted, pulling off his jersey.

     "He's a terrible goalkeeper," Kíli confided with a grin. "And he thinks the padding makes him look fat."

     "Only the goalkeeper padding, though Kalin pulls the look off well. I'm much better as a forward anyway." Fíli was putting on his padding as he talked, some of his words muffled as the thick fabric passed over his head. He wagged his eyebrows when the shoulder pads were in place. "Plus, this padding makes my shoulders look extra broad."

     "He thinks he's such a lady killer," Kíli snorted, "but he's not." Fíli playfully swatted at Kíli with his jersey and Gimli grinned, tying his boots before standing and stretching.

     "Well, best of luck with your training, Fíli, Kíli," Gimli said with a polite bow of his head. "I'm sure I'll see you around." The brothers called out farewells as Gimli gathered his things and left.

****

     Gimli really wasn't surprised when he saw the two of them sitting in the bleachers when he came in for his next training session. They waved when they saw him looking, and he waved back. Dori gave them a stern look, but as they stayed quiet during the time Gimli was on the ice except to clap when he did a move well, he did not forbid them from staying to watch. Instead, he thought getting used to a small audience would be good for Gimli, and the number of members of the hockey team appearing in the stands increased with each training session.

     For the most part, they were just curious or disbelieving of the brothers' stories. They were all about as quiet as hockey players could be while he was on the ice... for now. He was on edge, waiting for one of them to made snide remarks or be rude while he skated, he knew it was coming. When it finally did happen, though, the reaction was not at all what he was expecting.

     There were ten members of the hockey team that came semi-regularly by this time. They were polite and cheered when Gimli did a move right, making him flush slightly with pride. However, one afternoon practice, a new member came in and when Gimli fell, they made rude comments, laughing at his mistakes. Gimli assumed the others would laugh too, but to his surprise they all frowned and turned to the new player. A chorus of protests cut off the laughter

     “Hey man, leave him alone. He’s still new.”

     “Yeah, you weren’t great when you started.”

     “Don’t be a shaft.”

     “I’d like to see you do that. I know I can barely get my leg up on land with support, let alone on the ice.”

     The co-captain, Breir, placed his hand on the startled newcomer’s shoulder. “Svarte, I know you just signed on, but you were required to read our code of conduct. You should know that the Ingots do not tolerate bullying, whether toward other team members or other dwarves. We set an example for the little ones watching at home; that sort of attitude won’t be permitted on the ice and we don’t like it off the ice either. You’ll need to keep that in mind if you want to stay on this team. Do you understand?”

     They nod, face flushed under their beard. They twist their hands together, not looking at Gimli. “Yes, sir, I understand. Won’t happen again, sir.”

     Breir gently shook their shoulder, a half smile softening his words. “It may, but we’ll call you on it. You’ll learn.”

     Gimli gaped, dumbfounded. He snapped out of it when Dori skated by, barking at him to get moving and for the hockey players to stop making a scene and sit down, or he would throw them all out. Those in the stands took their seats again and Gimli resumed where he left off, but there was an undercurrent of friendly pride throughout the rest of practice. They even invited him to their next practice, so he could watch them bash each other with sticks.

     “Yeah, let us show you the other side of the ice,” Fíli grinned, punching Gimli’s shoulder. “Not everything on the ice is as floaty and graceful as you get to be.”

     “Maybe we can even prove to you that hockey is a far better use of your skills,” another player, Braer - better known as  Avalanche by his teammates and fans -, shouted from the back. This spurred on the rest of the team to rib Gimli about “hogging his skills” and “using your talents for the betterment of all” until Gimli was as red as his beard from laughter and agreed to attend their evening practice.

****

     Hockey players prepping during Gimli’s practice became a normal occurrence, though all but Fíli and Kíli came and went. Kíli especially seemed fascinated by Gimli’s skillset and picked up enough to give encouraging yet unhelpful advice when Gimli fell. During a water break, Gimli noticed Skirfir braiding Nyrath’s hair. Nyrath idly spun his helmet in his hands as he waited, tipping his head as Skirfir nudged him. His dark curly hair submitted easily to the braids Skirfir wove, his thick fingers swiftly flipping the strands together. Gimli hadn’t noticed before, but all the hockey players had similar braids. He waved at Fíli, catching his attention.

     “Do you have a team braid pattern?”

     Fíli scratched his head. “I suppose you could call it that. It’s just what we’re taught to keep our hair up under our helmets and out of our faces.”

     “You could probably use something similar,” Kíli chimed in, “I’ve seen some videos of ice dancers, some of those moves put their blades really close to their heads. And most of them keep their hair short or tied up, so you could definitely use a braid pattern!”

     Gimli gave the hockey braids an appraising look. “Aye, That does look better than what I use now. Will you teach me?”

     Dori slid to a stop at the wall near him, a thoughtful look on his face. “That’s a good idea. We’ll be working on some of those over-the-head moves next week and we don’t want your blade getting caught in that thicket on your head.” He glanced at his pocket watch and tutted. “We only have twenty minutes left in our block. Could a few of you lads come early to Gimli’s next practice and help him braid up his hair?”

     Kíli shrugged, spinning a pen in his fingers. “Sure, I can. I don’t have a lot to do after lessons are over.”

     “What about your training?” Gimli asked with a small frown.

     “I train in the morning, when the light is better outside.”

     “I’ll be here, too,” Fíli added. “So you can watch Kíli braid it before we put it on your head.”

     “Thank you,” Dori said. He clapped his hands, then shooed Gimli away from the wall. “Alright, enough chatting, rewarm up and we’ll go over the lutz again.” Gimli huffed but pushed off to resume skating.

 

     “Uncle, Uncle!”

     "Uncle, you wouldn’t believe what Gimli did today!”

     Thorin, eldest son of King Thrain, Crown Prince of Erebor, Heir to the throne, sighed deeply as his nephews bounded into his office, the peaceful silence broken by their loud voices and the thump of Fíli’s hockey bag hitting the ground by the door. Their energy was great when they directed it at their chosen passions, but when it was directed at him, it was exhausting. The stack of paperwork from today alone stood higher than the width of his hand, even after all he had done. If he could just finish what he had, he could go home and have a bottle of the local darkbrew. Perhaps relax in a hot bath, put on a record, and ignore everyone else for a while.

     His fantasy was interrupted by Kíli gracelessly clambering onto the visitor’s chair in front of his desk, hollering about something. Fíli grabbed his brother from the side, rocking the chair dangerously onto two legs.

     “Boys!” Thorin snapped, setting his pen down before ink could splatter all over his document. Immediately, his nephews scrambled apart, the chair settling back onto all four legs. Thorin sighed and rubbed his throbbing temple.

     “Sorry, Uncle,” Fíli said, calmer. He nudged his brother, who chorused the sentiment before flopping into the chair again, this time actually sitting in the seat.

     “But you should’ve seen him, Uncle! Ice dancing is so much cooler than I ever thought-” Kíli continued to jabber but Thorin’s mind was swept far from his office and his nephews with that one foolishly dear phrase.

 _In an instant, he is back in that rink, enormous stands empty, the ice clean and white but for where Bilbo’s skates dig into it. The hobbit laughs as he literally skates circles around Thorin, easily dancing out of reach when the dwarf chases him. It is only when Bilbo lets him catch up, spinning away his forward momentum, that Thorin can get an arm around him. The hobbit catches his hand as he comes out of his spin and draws him close, their faces flushed with exertion and joy. He leans closer-_ -

     “--and then WHOOSH!” Kíli lept off the chair, turned once in the air, and crashed to the ground in a heap on top of his brother, who had tried to catch him.

     Thorin jumped at the noise, banging his knee on the underside of his desk. The sharp jab of pain cleared the last misty traces of the memory from his mind. His face was hot, the blush spilling down his neck beneath his beard. The pain from his knee and his annoyance at his nephew quickly overcame the... nostalgic fondness that arose from the memory. He let that annoyance fill him as barked, “What are you **doing**?”

     “I was trying to do that move that Gimmers did!” Kíli hopped off the floor and pulled his brother up, clapping him on the shoulder with his free hand. He turned to Thorin, his eyes bright and excited. “Of course, I didn’t do it nearly as well, he was on ice after all-” Thorin held up a hand and Kíli’s mouth closed with a small snap.

     Staring unseeing at the abandoned paperwork, Thorin pieced together what little information he’d gleaned from the chatter, both today and these past few weeks. He looked up at them after a moment, an eyebrow raised. “There’s a dwarf training to be an ice dancer in the Mountain?”

     Fíli huffed a sigh, fighting to keep a smile off his face. “Yes, Uncle,” he said with the practiced pace and enunciation Dis made him use during court training. “As we’ve been telling you, a young dwarf is learning figure skating in the schedule block before hockey practice. He’s quite good, for all he and his coach are piecing their learning together from the internet.”

     Kíli, who could never sit still even in court training and who was nearly vibrating out of his skin now, piped up. “Yeah, he’s amazing! He can jump and spin around so fast I can’t even see his face! You should come see him some time-- Oh! ” He leaned forward on the broad desk, his eyes shining with ideas. “It would so cool if he could do like an exhibition or something! I bet a lot of people would like to see him!”

     Fíli brightened. “We do have a home game next month. He could perform between periods.”

     Thorin leaned back in his chair, picking his pen up again. He frowned at the dried ink on the tip and wiped at it with a rag. "If you can organise for him to do a demonstration - a professional one, not just messing about on the ice - I'll come watch. But it needs to be done properly and you need to let me finish this paperwork."

     The brothers cheered and bumped fists. “I’ll talk to his coach before next practice!” Fíli said. Thorin raised an eyebrow.

     “Who is his coach, anyway? I’m surprised there’s anyone in this mountain that knows enough of the sport to teach it.”

     “Oh, it’s Dori, son of Kori.” Kíli immediately had the answer, then stroked his chin, looking up as he traced the connections. “I think he’s a guild master in the Weavers or Tailors or Embroiderers or something. He’s the brother of one of the writers for the Granite - you’d know Ori’s work, he does mostly small pieces on local issues...” And Kíli was off again. Thorin sometimes marvelled at how his youngest nephew could talk without the apparent need to draw breath. Thorin tuned him out and turned to his eldest nephew, raising an eyebrow for more succinct information, but Fíli just shrugged.

     “We don’t know a lot about him,” the blond explained, “just that he likes figure skating enough to help Gimli with the basics. He can skate decently himself, but nowhere near Gimli’s skill or even mine. They do a lot of research to get the moves right.”

     Thorin hummed a noncommittal sound and made a mental note to look into this Dori if anything came of the skater, but pushed the matter aside in favor of his paperwork. He was just dipping his pen in the inkpot when Kíli’s phone chimed with a text.

     “Amad wants us back home to help with dinner,” Kíli said, shoving the phone in Fíli’s face so he could read the text. The phone chimed again and Fíli squinted at the small words.

     “She says if you want any you’ll have to stop by,” Fíli told Thorin, who resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “She’s tired of delivering to your office.”

     Thorin frowned. “Is she cooking tonight?”

     “Yes, and I’m telling her you asked like it was a bad thing,” Kíli replied, thumbs rapidly tapping on his phone screen.

     This time Thorin did roll his eyes. “Tell her I’ll be by in an hour. I still need to finish this paperwork, which you two are not helping me complete.” He gestured for them to leave with one hand, the other flipping to the next page of the document he’d been working on before they came in. “You’d best get going if you’re going to help her.” He looked up, pointing his pen at Fíli. "And don't leave your hockey kit here again - Dwalin says he'll burn it if you leave it behind to be a trip hazard again."

     “Yes, Uncle,” Fíli said, picking up the duffle bag he’d dropped by the door on his way in. The brothers left, talking on some new topic, and Thorin bent his head back to his work. His mind was quickly engrossed in the current stonemason union contract negotiations, thoughts of ice dancing chased to the furthest edges.

****

     Gimli arrived extra early for his next practice, so he could stretch before the brothers showed up. Gloin accompanied him; while he'd missed some of his son’s practices, he was adamant about learning the braiding pattern in case Gimli needed his help. The skater was glad to have his father's support and nimble hands to help with his hair. Gloin settled on one of the bleachers near where the hockey players usually sat and cracked open his laptop, an accounting program booted up already. He settled his reading glasses on his broad nose and got to work while Gimli spread out his yoga mat in the wide entrance tunnel and began his stretching routine.

     He was folded in half, frowning in concentration as he grabbed his feet and pulled himself flatter, when Kíli arrived. Gimli turned his head and saw Kíli’s jaw dropped open.

     “Did you break your spine?” he asked, incredulous.

     Gimli twisted so he could frown up at Kíli without letting go of his feet. “Of course not, I'm just stretching.” He sat up and spread his legs wide before leaning forward again so his elbows braced him against the floor. He grimaced at the achy pull in his hips and took controlled breaths. He glanced up when there was a thump on the floor in front of him: Kíli was on the ground mirroring his pose with a much shallower V, his jaw locked tight as he leaned forward. Gimli immediately sat up.

     “Whoa, whoa, hang on! You could hurt yourself if you don't do it right, especially without stretching other muscles first!”

     Kíli stopped at barely half the distance to the floor that Gimli achieved before sitting back up to flop backward.  “I don't know how you do it,” he groaned, “my thighs hate me already.”

     With a snort, Gimli nudged Kíli’s foot with his own. “I’ve been doing yoga twice a day for months, of course I'm more flexible than you are.” Still, it was nice to be appreciated, so he leaned back and pushed up into a backbend just to hear Kíli’s gasp. As he dropped to the floor again, he saw Fíli enter the seating area, laughing at something another hockey player said. It looked like more than just the brothers had shown up early to help him.

     Dori arrived soon after them and Gimli stopped stretching to join his coach on the first bleacher. Gloin closed his laptop and came down to the lower bleachers where Kíli and Fíli were sitting. The two were bickering as they got settled, Kíli grousing about how Fíli always misplaced his comb as he dug around in the bulky dufflebag. The other players that arrived with the brothers sat in the bleachers above them, obviously ready to help and heckle in equal measure.

     Fíli swiftly unbound his hair, shaking his hair to loosen the kinked strands after removing all his beads, tossing one leg over the bleacher so he sat astride it. He leaned his head down, his hair swinging forward to curtain around his face. Kíli straddled the bleacher in front of him, a comb and a hair-tie in hand. He carefully brushed out Fíli’s hair before splitting it down the middle. He bound the hair on the side he wasn’t working on into a loose ponytail and started sectioning the hair on the side of Fíli’s head closest to GImli, so the younger dwarf could see what he was doing.

     “These braids are based on some ancient warrior’s braids, apparently,” Fíli told Gimli as Kíli parted his hair. Fíli tried to look at Gimli, but Kíli frowned and tugged sharply on a lock to get him back in position. “Hey!”

     “Stop wiggling!” Kíli demanded, fingers deftly separating a section into seven strands. He wove them upwards, keeping a practiced even tension, tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth slightly as he concentrated on getting the pattern right. Fíli stuck out his tongue, knowing Kíli couldn’t see him. Gimli giggled and Fíli grinned at him through a curtain of hair.

     “The braids add extra padding under our helmets, so when we smash into each other and the walls it hurts even less. For you, though, braiding your hair up close will help keep it out of your way and out of your blades.”

     “That would terrify me,” Kíli commented, leaning over Fíli at an awkward angle as he wove the braid to form a tight curl close above Fíli's ear and down towards his beard. Fíli winced when Kíli tightened the braid too much, holding the hair tight while he looked at Gimli. “Putting a sharp blade like that close to my head while zooming around?” He shuddered. “No thanks.”

     “Oi, bricks for brains, can you focus? Gimli’s got a limited time here.” Fíli blindly reached for his brother, Kíli easily swatting his hand away. The brunette reached the end of the side he was working on and held a hand out in front of Fíli’s face. Fíli put a small clear elastic band into his waiting palm and Kíli tied off the braid with practiced ease, tucking the ends into a nearby curved section. Kíli moved on to the other side, away from Gimli’s gaze, so he took the opportunity to look at the braids closely. It was a single long, head-hugging braid beginning at the base of the neck and following the center line up the skull to the forehead, where it edged down the hairline to behind the ear and curled in on itself, forming a rough spiral like a ram’s horn.

     “This style requires the assistance of at least one other dwarf to encourage strong team bonds,” Fíli said, drawing Gimli’s attention back to the older dwarf. “It reminds us we can't win a game on our own and we are stronger together. Oh, and we can’t wear beads in our hair under the helmets. I wouldn’t recommend you wear any either, in case you fall on them.”

     “They might also weigh you down,” Kíli commented, “or make your head cold.”

     “We’re allowed to style our beards how we want,” Austri, one of the massive defensive players, commented from the bleacher behind Fíli. They smirked, stroking their own bushy braided beard. “At least, those of us who have enough _to_ style.” Fíli raised the hand closest to Austri, flicking his spread first two fingers at them, without moving his head. The other players chuckled.

     Gimli nodded, fingers fiddling with the beads in his own short beard. Dori gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I will help you design a new style and braid it in,” the silver-haired dwarf said, “I doubt it will be more complicated than what I have already worked with.” He gestured to his own intricately styled hair and Gimli cracked a small smile. “Thank you,” Dori said, turning to the hockey players, “for coming here so early and helping Gimli. I brought some sweet rolls if you would like some.” Immediately, the other hockey players stood and followed Dori down the sideline to a food tub. Kíli and Fíli shared a look as Kíli tucked in the end of the second braid; Kíli nodded and Fíli rose, carefully stepping around Gimli.

     While Fíli stood and hopped over the bleachers after Dori, Kíli turned to Gimli and Gloin with a bright smile. “Okay! Let’s actually try this on you, Gimmers.” Gimli quickly undid his simple braids and Gloin joined Kíli in front of the mass of thick red hair. “Okay, Master Gloin, we’ll start by parting his hair...”

     Kíli and Gloin worked on Gimli’s hair, twisting the wiry strands into neat plaits. Meanwhile, further down the bleacher, Fíli picked two rolls from the tub of Dori’s home baked pastries. The baker was sitting nearby, frowning down at his laptop as he rewatched a video of one of the moves Gimli would practice. Fíli sat down next to him, startling Dori.

     “Ah, Fíli, correct? Is there something I can help you with?” Dori asked, pausing the video.

     “Sort of.” He fidgeted with the rolls in his hands, watching the soft crusts dent beneath his fingers. “I was thinking, Gimli is doing really well, right? But he’s not working toward anything right now and not a lot of people know about him. So maybe - and this was Kíli’s idea, so blame him if it’s a bad idea - maybe he could do a demonstration?” Fíli finally looked Dori in the face, expression earnest. “We have a home game next month. I know it’s not a lot of time to prepare a routine or whatever it’s called, and he’s still learning, but it would get him better known and-”

     Dori held up his hand, brows raised as he thought. “Tell me more,” he said after a moment. “What do you all think?”

Immediately, though their mouths were full of bread, the hockey players all chimed in with positive comments. Fíli slipped away from the chatter and the spray of crumbs to deliver the second bun to his brother. Kíli looked up from where he was holding a piece of Gimli’s hair while Gloin worked on the main curve of the second braid. Fíli gave him a wink and the bun, and Kíli’s mouth stretched in a grin as he winked back. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think in a comment! Like the changes? Confused on a term? I always respond and I enjoy your feedback, so don't be afraid to ask!
> 
> Terminology used this chapter:  
> Slapshot: https://youtu.be/csGpqnok6p8  
> Salchow: https://youtu.be/H_KZeYwD2dU  
> Lutz: https://youtu.be/UNmTZlo0tc8  
> Do you want me to put written descriptions of each move as well or are the video links enough? Please let me know in a comment!


	4. To Demonstrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mizim is named for/inspired by the same character in Sansûkh by the amazing determamfidd. Seriously, go read it if you haven't already. It is such a magnificent story. I did draw a lot of inspiration from it and others like it, especially to fill in gaps from movie canon, on which this story is mostly sort of based as I haven't read the books yet.

     “It’s time to make a routine,” Dori announced, setting a laptop down on the table in front of Gimli. They were in the concession area of the arena today, seated at the metal tables and chairs that surrounded the food stand, where they would usually go over what moves they would practice that day.

     Gimli blinked, thrown. “Coach Dori?”

     He pulled up a handful of tabs in his web browser, all videos but for the international guidelines on the short program. “Watch these. They’re videos from the last few years' competitions. You need to see how a routine looks and what moves to pick, so we can start choreography.”

     “Okay, but what for?”

     “I’ve arranged with Rink Events Director for you to do an exhibition show at the Ingots’ next home game. It will be good for you to be more in the public eye if you ever hope to take your talent to a bigger audience than those hooligans and your father.”

     Gimli opened his mouth, but he had nothing to retort, so he swallowed nervously and settled in for a long afternoon of watching others skate instead of being on the ice himself. Most of the videos selected were of hobbits as their height, though not proportions, were more akin to that of a dwarf, but there were videos of men as well since hobbit footwork was far lighter than any dwarf could dream of doing. Most of the videos came from the bracket he would compete in, the adult men’s singles, including competitors from the last eight years and all nations. Though the elvish routines made him roll his eyes with how flowy and flowery they were, he couldn’t resist rewatching some of Lady Galadriel’s performances, including the Olympic performance that first made him fall in love with the sport. It was even more incredible now that he knew what moves she was performing.

****

     It took them a week to design a simple routine that Gimli could perform. They planned it on paper first, writing each step down. They based it off the current short program guidelines, so was only just under three minutes long. Still, it was daunting to Gimli; his first routine, and first performance in front of a crowd.

     Once they settled on a routine, they set to practicing it. He practiced without music first, running the sets in twos and threes to cement the order in his head. Once he had the order down, Dori timed him, making him start over if he ran over the time limit. Slowly, the routine came together and Gimli grew more confident with his steps.

     Once he was solid in his routine and could do it in the time period, Gimli picked a song with a good rhythm to set his routine to and that he hopefully wouldn’t get sick of hearing over and over. Dori arranged for a technician to run the sound system for them in the practices leading up to his performance, so he could get used to hearing the music over the loudspeakers as he skated. It also kept him moving; if he made a mistake, he had to just keep skating, as he couldn’t stop the music and start over.

     Slowly, the routine came together. The deadline of the home game loomed; Glóin had it marked on the family calendar and the hockey team grew tenser as the date grew closer. More and more hockey players showed up during his practice, getting the prep work of hair braiding and gear donning out of the way so they could jump right into warm ups. Gimli finally met the captain of the team, who was none other than Prince Frerin of the royal family. He had heard a lot about him - including some unflattering things from Fili in regards to making them run up and down the arena stairs all the time - but meeting him was something else.

     For one, the dwarf was shorter than he expected. Gimli had expected the captain to be a towering dwarf the likes of Austri and Dwalin, but Frerin was only a little taller than Fili. Like Fili, he had blonde hair that was already tied back in the helmet braids, though his beard was much much longer than Fili’s and braided in a single thick weave. The captain arrived just as Gimli was getting off the ice; he knew he was the captain without an introduction as the gathered players all loudly greeted him as soon as he entered.

     “Here you all are,” Frerin said with a grin, his hands on his hips. “When you said you’d be at the rink early, I expected to find you in the locker room!”

     “But then we couldn’t watch Gimli skate!” Svarte responded. The others nodded their heads.

     “Gimli?”

     “That would be me,” the skater said, drawing Frerin’s attention. Gimli stood from the bleacher where he was untying his skates to offer a bow. “Gimli son of Glóin at your service.”

     “He’s a figure skater!” Kíli piped in. Frerin raised an eyebrow.

     “Really?” He hummed and looked out to the empty ice. “So you’re the one making the strange marks. I was wondering what could cut the ice so deeply.” He saw GImli’s face crease in concern and hurriedly waved him off. “It’s not a problem! We can skate on ice that is way more chewed up than that. I was just curious.” He looked at his watch, then to the players. “If you’re ready to go, get on the ice! Coach Mârak will be here soon, let’s be warmed up by that time.”

     The players got up with a clatter and thumped down the bleacher stairs to put on their skates at the edge of the ice. Frerin sat down next to Gimli, slipping into his own skates while watching Gimli take off his curiously. When the redhead got one foot free, Frerin asked to see the skate and Gimli handed it over. Frerin whistled softly as he inspected the boot.

     “This is high quality craftsmanship. Must have cost a hefty sack for just a hobby.” Frerin looked up from the boot, his eyes meeting Gimli’s. “Unless you plan to take this pro?”

     Gimli blinked and broke the gaze, feeling off balance. “I, uh, I haven’t thought about it much.”

     Frerin handed the skate back, standing. “You should. It’s important to know what direction you want to go before you push off. I have to go run drills. It was nice meeting you, Gimli.”

     “Nice meeting you as well, Captain,” Gimli replied in a daze

 

     His own name stared up at him from the eighth page of the local paper. He stared back, the shock of his runes in print silencing him for a long moment.

     It sat in the schedule of upcoming Ingots games beside an article on the team. In small print under the listing for the next home game against the Cutters was "Figure skater Gimli son of Glóin to debut in exhibition between periods one and two. No additional charge."

     Until that moment, it hadn't really hit him that he would be performing in front of a large crowd. He breathed through the sudden nausea of nerves. His fingers crinkled the paper, drawing his mother's attention. She flipped her jeweler's glasses up, her steady fingers holding a nearly completed necklace she was inspecting for flaws.

     "What's wrong, Gimli?" Mizim asked.  He wordlessly handed the paper over in reply. She put down the necklace, took the paper from him, read the ad, then handed the paper back to return to her work. "Oh, that."

     "I'm so nervous," he confessed. "What if I fall and everyone laughs at me?"

     "Do you plan on falling?" she asked, twisting the necklace.

     Gimli wrinkled his nose up. "Of course not."

     "Then don't fall. The more you worry about it beforehand, the more you'll psych yourself out. Relax and you'll be fine." She looked at him again, her eyes warm and kind. "And even if you did fall, it would just be a small mistake at the beginning of a long career. When I was first learning to twirl an axe, I accidentally took a chunk out of my instructor's nose."

     Gimli perked up, chuckling. "I didn't know that."

     "Oh yes, I was quite terrible." The lines beside Mizim's eyes crinkled with her smile. Her expression finally melted the steel bar of tension that had been building in Gimli's shoulders. "Everyone is bad at something until they get better. You already have a skill no other dwarf has. Celebrate it, and ignore anyone who disapproves." She reached over and ruffled his hair, making him grumble goodnaturedly. "And if anyone makes you feel bad about it, I'll beat them to a pulp."

     "Thanks, Amad, but I can take care of myself." Her support did mean a lot to him, though, and her firm belief in him bolstered his spirit. He gave her a brief hug before grabbing his bag to head to afternoon practice.

****

     Gimli listened to the murmur of the crowd. He waited, alone, in the shadowy tunnel of the home team. His first performance in front of more than just his family and friends, for more than the supportive cheers and jeers from the hockey team. Dori felt he was ready for an exhibition, but Gimli felt as if he had swallowed a coal, cloying ash coating his throat as the hot ember rolled in his gut. How could he do this, it was insane-

     Kíli was suddenly there, wrapping his arms around Gimli’s shoulders. Gimli hadn’t noticed him approach through his panic so the sudden weight made him stumble back on his skates. The brunette clasped one hand around the back of Gimli’s head, careful not to undo any of the braids that kept his thick hair in check. He tugged and pulled Gimli’s head forward to rest against his. His eyes were intense, though blurry from how close they were to Gimli’s own.

     “Stop freaking out. You can and will do this, Gimli son of Glóin. You are an excellent skater. I know this, you know this, the entire team knows this, you just need to show them what a gem you are.” Gimli swallowed thickly and breathed out slowly.

     “I can do this,” he said.

     “Damn right you can.” With that, Kíli let him go, squeezing his shoulder for a moment. “Now get out there and rock their boots off!”

     Gimli only had time to nod at Kíli before Dori was gesturing for him to take the ice. The booming voice of the announcer came on, making Gimli jump.

_“Please welcome to the ice, in his debut figure skating exhibition, Gimli son of Glóin! Gimli is thirty-nine years old and currently a student at...”_

     As the announcer read the scripted paragraph Dori had made, Gimli sent a quick prayer to Mahal that he wouldn’t fall, disgracing his family and coach. At the right time, he took a step forward, the bright light spilling into his face-- then the ice was beneath his skates and he welded a smile on over his nerves as he waved to the crowd. The stands were full, but not packed. He skated to the center of the rink and bowed to the crowd in all four directions, like the skaters did in the videos, before getting into his pose, hands in fists placed solidly on his hip-bones, legs shoulder-width apart. A good solid stance. It grounded him and calmed his nerves.

     The music started with a slow crescendo of strings and he moved, the first strokes of his routine carrying him across the ice. His mind was solidly focused on his routine, not the chattering noise of the crowd under the blaring music. Start with the footwork, build speed around the area. Arms move precisely. Double axel and- land. Keep the speed, spin, and out don’t wobble here crossover, build speed, double lutz--

     The moves flowed out of Gimli. His body reacted as it had been trained, and the less he thought about performing the moves, the better they came out, though he still wobbled and they were far from perfect. Distantly, he heard the crowd gasp then cheer as he performed each jump, the murmur of talking fading from one spin to another, but his focus was always on what was next. His focus only broke once, three-quarters of the way into his routine, when he overbalanced coming out of a double toe loop. He wobbled wildly and had to place a hand on the ice so he wouldn’t fall down. He grit his teeth but kept going, skating to the music that swelled around him, accentuated by the rhythmic hiss and tap of his skates on the ice. The crowd didn’t react like he’d made a big mistake, but he knew Dori would have him drill that jump until he could land it properly. He got back into the rhythm of his program and finished with only a few more wobbles. With a final flourish, he stuck his last step and posed, the music ending just as he did.

     The arena was silent for a moment - and then the crowd _roared_. The applause was almost deafening to a skater who had only gotten cheers from twenty dwarves at most before this. He beamed beneath his beard, chest heaving from the exertion. Sweat pooled and cooled on his skin, but he didn’t care. He felt as light as pumice and as bright as sunlight caught in the facets of a diamond. He broke his pose to bow to each side of the arena as Dori taught him to, waving at his family as he skated for the exit. Dori was there with his skate caps and a smile. He patted his student on the back as Gimli slipped the covers over his blades. Gimli barely got the metal covered before Glóin picked him up off his feet in a bear hug. He managed to squirm out of his father’s hold and sat on the end of the nearest bleacher, where Dori had saved him a spot. The icing machine trundled out of its dock to resurface the ice Gimli had gouged before the next period began. Dori stood next to him as Gimli unlaced his skates.

     “Very well done, Gimli.” Gimli’s grin broadened at the praise. “Your jumps need work and your spins are slow, but your footwork has greatly improved in consistency. Take tomorrow off to relax and rest, but be at the rink at the normal time the day after.”

     “Yes, sir.” Dori instructed Gimli to get changed in the locker room and he went.

     Fíli, Kíli, and most of the hockey team surrounded him when he entered the lobby after the game, pounding on his back and cheering in celebration of his excellent performance. His grin felt almost painful it was so wide, but the joy of a routine well executed was amplified by so many supporters. The team took him out for beers that night, to celebrate their own victory and his stunning performance.

     He was in a story in the local paper the next day, on the third page. It wasn't the most flattering of articles, showing mixed reactions to his chosen sport, but Glóin cut it out and put it in a book anyway. The first few pages of the book were already filled with pictures of a young Gimli on ice, when he was first learning to skate, and then pictures and minor articles as he learned to figure skate. Glóin claimed this was so he could document and show off his son's rise to fame and glory, and that eventually a book like this could sell for a great price. Mizim rolled her eyes, but Gimli just laughed, glad he had his money-minded father's support. **  
**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited 2/19/2017: So much new content has been added to this chapter that the next chapter is going to be BRAND NEW material, all preparing him for competitions. So keep an eye out for that!  
> How do you like it? Got any questions? Please leave me a comment and let me know your thoughts!


	5. To Compete - UNDER CONSTRUCTION

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Dialogue written like this is commentator speech. Think of it as if you were watching at home, the people talking while the person skates. The skater cannot hear them, but the audience at home can.]

    Rivendell was gorgeous in its own odd, elflike way.  Glimi spared a disdainful glance for the architecture _-_ _one good storm and that house will collapse_ _-_ then focused back on following their guide and not freaking out with nerves. He had never been around so many people who were passionate about skating. Everywhere there were skates stitched into clothes and booths set up selling wares or equipment. He heard terminology in casual conversation he had only heard from his coaches or the commentators in the videos he watched.

    He desperately wanted to join in a conversation, to talk with others of his sport, but wherever they went Elves and Men gave him bewildered or disgusted looks and conversations fell silent or switched languages to ones he did not understand. The few hobbits around looked at him curiously but nervously and made no attempt to approach him. This all made him even more surly and aggravated than he had been before, and the scowl on his face deepened with each step.

    A sturdy shoulder bumped against his and he looked at his father, who walked close beside him. Glóin was glaring at a blonde elf who had not been watching where he was walking. The dark cloud over Gimli's face lightened with the reminder that he was not alone in this strange place. Prince Thorin was meeting with the leader here, so it was just himself and his father amongst the strangers.

    His friends had wanted to come with him, to show their support, but Thorin had put his foot down. Besides, the hockey team had an important game against a team from the Iron Hills that weekend, so there was no way they could travel. Fíli and Kíli swore they would watch him on TV, though, and Gimli made sure to give each of his friends a quick hug before he left, memories of support to bolster his spirit in a hostile environment.

    They reached the room where they would be staying and Gimli flopped on the - thankfully dwarf-sized - bed with a huff. It was too airy and big in general, but it would do for the time they would be here. The competition would start the next morning, and Thorin wanted Gimli well rested before then, so Gimli carefully prepared the things he would need tomorrow before going to bed.

    He carefully inspected his skates and outfit for any last minute repairs or imperfections, running a whet stone along the faces to give their edge a fresher sharpness. With the leather polished and conditioned, and every stitch as it should be, he packed his duffel, changed into sleepwear, and accepted the calming cup of tea his father handed to him. They did not say anything, did not share their fears or reassurances, their nerves or confidences. They simply sipped their tea in comfortable, steady silence, each taking strength from the other’s presence. Gimli went to bed afterwards, falling quickly to sleep despite his lingering worries.

****  
  


[Theme music]

[Lindir: Well, it is a beautiful day here in Rivendell-]

[Glorfindel: When is it not, Lindir?]

[Lindir: (laughing) True enough, Glorfindel! Welcome to this year's International Championship. We are live from lovely Rivendell.]

[Glorfindel: The first competition today is the Men's Short Program. The first round of skaters have already taken to the ice for warmups and wow, there is a lot of talent out there today!]

[Lindir: Indeed there is. One to look out for is Legolas Thranduilion, Prince of Greenwood. This is his 17th year of competing after taking a 50 year break, and it doesn't look like he'll stop again any time soon! He is well-known to have incredibly complicated and fast footwork and elegant, cohesive choreography.]

[Glorfindel: There is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He has announced this season will be the last season of competition for him before he officially takes the throne of Gondor. I expect we'll see him pulling out all sorts of tricks, to make his last season the best yet. I heard a rumor that he'll be doing two quads in competition this year, but we'll see if he pulls that trick out this early in the competition season.]

[Lindir: From a last to a first, here we have Gimli son of Glóin, the first dwarf to compete in figure skating since....gosh, how long has it been?]

[Glorfindel: At least a few thousand years. He is the only figure skater out of Erebor and, as such, this is his first competition ever. We'll see how he handles it.]

[Lindir: From Gondor, there is Boromir son of Denethor. He has some of the most textbook jumps I've ever seen. Flawless landings, every time.]

[Glorfindel: But unlike his brother, who will also be skating today, he lacks some of the artistry the judges are looking for, which may cost him valuable points.]

[Lindir: That is something he has struggled with for years. And last of this round is Frodo Baggins. Out of three hobbits competing for the chance to be on the Olympic team this year, Frodo is favored to win.]

[Glorfindel: It's been said he has some of the lightest footwork around, even for a hobbit.]

[Lindir: And no surprise there, for his coach is none other than Bilbo Baggins, the ice dancer who won gold three times then retired when his skating partner, Frodo's mother, got married.]

[Glorfindel: Didn't he have a relationship with the Ereborian Olympic hockey captain, Prince Thorin,  years ago?]

[Lindir: None of those rumors were ever confirmed, but if they were true, then there's a chance the spark could reignite. Prince Thorin is coaching Gimli son of Glóin.]

[Glorfindel: (gasps) Really? Well, this is shaping up to be the most exciting competition in a very long while.]

[Lindir: The skaters are off the ice now, and first up to compete is Boromir son of Denethor. Now he....]

 

    Legolas watched with disbelief and disgust as the dwarf stepped onto the glossy cold surface of the rink. He eyed the dwarf skater with suspicion and contempt. How dare that stone dweller come to this competition. Their ice was no place for someone like him.

    " _Legolas_ _,_ " his father snapped. The blond turned back to him, his father's smooth Sindarin bringing his focus around. ::Ignore the dwarf and focus on your warm-up. He will prove why his kind should keep to their bloodsports soon enough on his own,:: Thranduil sneered.

    ::Yes, father.::

    With that, the Greenwood skater pushed off from the wall and blocked everything else out, going through the trickier steps in his program and practicing his jumps. He narrowly avoided the dwarf as he landed a triple lutz, quickly turning on an outer edge to avoid the compact body.

    "Watch where you're going, _dwarf_ ," he sneered. "Bad enough you sully our ice with your dirty blades, don't want to add your blood as a stain as well."

    The dwarf turned and made what looked like a very rude gesture with his hands as he skated backwards, then seamlessly popped into a jump, his warm-up barely interrupted by the near collision. A frown was etched into Legolas's face for the rest of warm-ups, the encounter leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He was scowling when he got off the ice and brushed off his father's fussing.

    He shook off the funk, however, before his performance, pasting a dazzling smile on as he skating a circuit of the rink before resting near the middle in a low lunge. All thoughts of dwarves and over bearing parents left his mind, the crowd disappearing into a cold empty mindset. The music began and he skated, each move as perfect as the last. He glided serenely across the ice, letting muscle memory do most of the work as he kept his mind blank. The emptiness faded as the music ended and was gone by the time he stepped off the ice. He barely even remembered what moves he did.

    He made his way to the sponsor-plastered booth where he would wait for his scores. He ignored the bank of cameras except to give a polite wave as he sat down. There was no surprise when his scores came back very high, nearly flawless, setting a solid first place that would be tough to beat.

    A hot thermos was handed to him and he sipped the tea inside absently. Skaters weren't allowed to drink on competition days, or Legolas would be drinking spiced wine. Tea was an acceptable substitute and he stepped up the low wall to watch those skating. He clapped politely for Frodo as the hobbit bowed, then smiled as his friend Aragorn skated to the center.

    He had met the Gondorian back before he had claimed his birthright, when he was known as Estel while he was tutored under Lord Elrond's care. They had developed a rapport that turned into a deep friendship by Aragorn's late twenties when the man began to compete on an international level. His skills were worthy enough that he won gold a few times over Legolas, prompting the elf to step up his training. Aragorn treated him less like a member of royalty as many did, but as a friend. He would miss the man when he stopped coming to compete; kingship did not leave a lot of leisure time.

    Aragorn slid to a stop and Legolas cheered with the crowd, pushing aside any melancholy thoughts. It had been an excellent performance, though not his best. He smiled at the man when he entered the viewing area with his own thermos. Legolas wrinkled his nose at the smell of coffee.

    "Ugh, I have no idea how you people drink that bitter bean juice," he complained with a grin. Aragorn laughed and bumped shoulders with his taller friend.

    "And I don't know how you people can stand that gross leaf water," was his retort. Legolas's chuckles died when he saw who the next skater was. His grin turned into a harsh frown. Aragorn glanced at his expression, then returned his eyes to the short stocky form getting into position on the ice. "He's very brave," the man said after the music started, their eyes following the dwarf around the rink, "this is a hostile place for any dwarf, yet he skates well and without a quiver or hesitation." A gasp then smattering of applause as he landed a difficult jump. "I know few who would willingly do such things."

    Legolas didn't reply, just glared at the redheaded skater. He couldn't conceal his shock fast enough when he did a perfect triple-double axle combo, and Aragorn noticed the change in expression, prompting him to speak again.

    "He's very good, even you have to admit. He has a lot of things going against him, but his form is almost flawless. Of course, some of his moves will be different, his stature doesn't allow for many of the more contortionist poses, but what he does he does well."

    "Enough," Legolas growled, tearing his eyes away from the spinning dwarf to glare at the carefully neutral face of his companion. "I know what you're trying to do."

    Aragorn raised a brow, also looking at his companion. "Oh? What am I trying to do? I am merely stating what I see." The man turned back to the ice in time to watch him finish and clapped loudly to in contrast to the respectful but far quieter crowd. "Gimli, hmm? I think I'll go talk to him."

    He clasped a hand on a sputtering Legolas's shoulder and walked toward the skater's waiting booth. When the scores were announced, he winced. How they could so blatantly underscore such a great performance was beyond the future king. He spotted two dwarves ahead of him and called out, stopping them and making other around him pause. They eyed him with suspicion as he approached and he bowed to both of them, recognizing Gimli's coach.

    "Prince Thorin, Master Gimli. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, at your service."

    "Aye, and at yours," Gimli said warily. Aragorn smiled at him.

    "You skated very well out there today," he said.

    "For a dwarf you mean?" Gimli sneered. Aragorn shook his head.

    "For any one," he insisted. Gimli snorted.

    "Not according to the judges."

    "Only the elven ones scored low. If they all had, you wouldn't be in the placement you are. And I think you just shocked them. They're not used to seeing a dwarf outskate them." Aragorn shrugged casually. "They'll get over it."

    Gimli's moustache twitched, as if concealing a grin. "Aye, they'll have to. They haven't seen the last of me."

    "Good!" Aragorn clasped a hand to Gimli's broad shoulder with a wide smile. "I look forward to skating against you in other competitions." He heard his name being called out and sighed, glancing at the crowd. "I have to go, but I'll see you around."

    "It was nice meeting you, Lord Aragorn," Gimli said, inclining his head. Aragorn waved off the honorific.

    "Just Aragorn. We're all equals here."

    He left before Gimli could retort, brushing past reporters to get to where his coaching staff was. He nodded to what his PA said, but his eyes watched the dwarves leave, a bubble around them as frowning elves stepped away from their path. He shook his head; whatever had started the hatred between those two races was practically forgotten to time, the grudges and dislike culturally taught rather than a personal affront to all except a few of the oldest elves. He looked forward to how this one dwarven skater would shake things up.


	6. To Stumble - UNER CONSTRUCTION

    The free skate portion of the competition was two days after the short skate, to give the men a chance to rest and the women a turn on the ice. Aragorn, of course, watched the ladies’ short program, cheering loudly when his fiancée took to the ice. Legolas, whom Aragorn had convinced to come with him, could see the exasperated smile Arwen sent his way even from their place in the third row. He could also see the scowl Arwen’s father, Lord Elrond, sent Aragorn’s way and sipped his tea to hold back a sigh. His friend’s enthusiasm was laudable, but inadvisable. He told him as much as the opening notes of Arwen’s song echoed in the space.

    “It would not do to make her father disapprove of you even more than he does,” the Sylvan pointed out. Aragorn scoffed.

    “How does proclaiming my support of my beloved merit disapproval?” he asked. “If anything, it should gather support.”

    Legolas rolled his eyes and scrolled down on his phone, idly checking posts and messages. “I suppose you would know better than I, having been raised by Lord Elrond in your youth. I know I would never purposely do anything that would displease my King.”

    "You are more than a Prince, Legolas, you are also a son." Aragorn raised an eyebrow and turned his head toward Legolas, but did not take his eyes off Arwen’s silver-wrapped figure. “Being raised by someone does not mean knowing everything about that person. There are still things Elrond does or says that surprises me. And I'm sure there are things that I do that surprise him. Don't you ever surprise your father?"

    Legolas rolled his eyes. "Please. Surprise him with what?"

****The day of the free skate dawned clear and bright; but none of the skaters could appreciate this, as the arena was lit with artificial lights and they had been in it since before the sun rose. Legolas and Aragorn were in the last bracket of skaters, due to their high scores. They watched in the viewing area as other skaters went, sipping their drinks and commenting on each performance. Legolas scowled when Gimli stepped onto the ice.

    “He doesn’t belong here.”

    Aragorn sipped his coffee before answering. “And why not? Because he’s not an elf?” He didn’t give Legolas a chance to respond before continuing with, “Yet I have seen men and hobbits on the ice today. He is not of a dark race, he has every right to skate as you or I do.”

    “But he’s a dwarf!” Legolas burst out. Aragorn gave him an extremely disappointed look.

    “...I sometimes forget just how racist you are, Legolas,” he said quietly, turning his attention away from the elf back to the dwarf skating on the ice. He set down his coffee to clap after Gimli landed a triple-double axle combo.

    Legolas was sputtering, trying to find words to express his emotions. “I am not racist!” he finally exclaimed.

    Aragorn gave a disbelieving snort and rolled his eyes. “Riiiight. Then you should, at the very least, be able to admit that he skates well.”

    The elf watched the dwarf skate, his face screwed up as if it physically pained him. “I...admit he...does have a...certain mastery over the form...” Legolas bit out, struggling with the words. “...though he is far from graceful.”

    Aragorn rolled his eyes extra hard and purposefully blew his coffee breath in a huff at Legolas to annoy him before cheering as Gimli finished. He made sure to cheer extra loud and was rewarded when Gimli sent him a small smile as he exited the rink.

    Legolas turned away, busying himself with his thermos. He would never admit it out loud, but the dwarf did have an amazing mastery on the ice. It was clear ice skating was a craft he was devoted to and had worked hard on. He was artistic and skilled in a way Legolas had never thought dwarves could be. It was difficult to entirely loathe a fellow athlete who was so devoted, and Legolas hated how that made him feel. He went back to his coaching staff in the waiting area to warm up and prepare for his turn on the ice.

    Legolas's name echoed around the arena and he skated onto the ice, waving blankly as he emptied his mind. His moves were smooth and wonderful and his mind was as clear as a summer sky.

    As Legolas set up for his triple toe loop, a flash of bushy red beard behind the wall caught his attention. The guarded expression and sparkling eyes of the dwarf that didn't belong sent a bolt of rage unexpectedly through him, breaking his concentration. The floaty, empty feeling he skated in dissipated instantly, making him hyper aware of his movements. His jump was a beat late and way out of balance. There was a collective gasp of startled horror as his landing fumbled and he was forced to place his second foot down to regain control. He quickly regained his footing and caught up with where he should be, but the rage simmered inside him for the rest of his performance.

[Lindir: oh no!]

[Glorfindel: I have never seen Legolas Thranduilion fumble a landing like that before!]

[Lindir: ooh, and it was a bad one. That will cost him some major points!]

[Glorfindel: I have no idea what is going through the mind of one of the most collected skaters I have ever seen.]

[Lindir: he seems to have regained his rhythm, though, here is his double lutz to flying camel, beautifully done...]

 

    Legolas grit his teeth into a tight smile, graciously accepting the bronze medal with the same air as he normally accepted gold. Though, those close to him would see a tightness around the eyes and tic in the jaw that meant he was furious but containing the rage. Frodo was beaming over his silver medal, waving enthusiastically to the cameras and crowd, and Aragorn looked stately, nearly kingly, with gold around his neck, the Gondorian national anthem blaring from the speakers.

    The elf prince would be happier for his friend if his victory did not stem from his own defeat.  And he knew just who to blame for that costly mishap.

 

    "You!!"

    Gimli turned at the furious shout, knowing somehow it was directed at him. The strong shove sent him stumbling back a step, surprised. The blonde elf, Lagulis or something, was glaring at him as if Gimli had poisoned his mother's mead.

    "This is all your fault!" The blonde shouted, seething.

    "Legolas, please." A man, Aragorn, the one who had been kind to Gimli yesterday, was attempting to hold the elf back, but he shrugged off the man's hands, his burning eyes fixed on the dwarf before him. Gimli drew himself to his full height and stood his ground, glaring back.

    "And what, pray tell, do you place blame on me for?" He replied, doing his best to keep his voice controlled and polite rather than spitting out every vile word he knew in the face of this lying weed-eater.

    "You sabotaged me!" There was a gasp from the crowd around them. Aragorn smacked his palm against his forehead. Gimli gaped, then snapped his teeth together.

    "How do you suggest I did that? And why would I even bother? You do a fair enough job messing up your routine, with no influence of mine." A louder gasp, heads turning to see how Legolas would respond. The elf's face was contorting into ugly lines with his anger.

    "You're the one that messed up my jump! You cost me this competition!" Aragorn pulled hard on Legolas's arm, muttering something in Sindarian, but it had no effect on the enraged elf.

    "How the fuck do you figure I messed up your jump?!" Gimli near exploded, insulted at the ludicrous accusations thrown at him.

    "You distracted me, on purpose!" Legolas jabbed his finger at Gimli, scowling when a broad hand swatted his away.

    " _You're_ the one that was skating, it's not my fault if you can't keep your mind on your own damned skates! I was just standing there-" Gimli did his best to calmly explain his side through gritted teeth, but the elf didn't let him.

    "Ha! You admit! You were there, you sabotaged me!" Legolas interrupted with a triumphant shout.

    "I did not, you filthy lying-"

    "You're just jealous because I have far more skills than you ever could have!" sneered Legolas.

    "Why you arrogant bastard!" Gimli balled his hands into tight fists, restraining himself from attacking the elf, his knuckles white and arms shaking.

    "At least I can get off the ice, not those pitiful hops you do. That must be why it was a jump you sabotaged." The smile Legolas aimed at him was anything but kind, a patronizing near pitying cruel twist of lips.

    "Scum-sucking lying elf, I did no such thing!" Gimli was roaring now. He took an angry step forward and Legolas matched him, leaning down slightly to taunt him further.

    "Greedy dwarf, no matter how much you destroy those better than you, you'll never win a competition, anyone can see y-"

    " **THAT IS** **_ENOUGH_ **!!"

    The shout rang out in the sudden silence that followed it. Legolas and Gimli did not look away from the other, both chests heaving from the angry words exchanged. Aragorn stepped between them, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. Legolas roughly pushed the hand away, turning on his heel and stalking away. Aragorn sighed and turned to the seething dwarf.

    "That was not the wisest thing you could have done, my friend."

    Gimli said nothing, just turned and stomped off in the opposite direction. Aragorn sighed and gave a withering glare to those still gathered around. They quickly found they had somewhere else to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ends the fully completed section. More to follow soon!


	7. an update - still here!

*taps dusty microphone*  
Hello? This thing on? Hi everyone. If you're still subscribed or are following this, THANK YOU! I know it's been a long time, but thanks to papertigress I'm reinvigorated on this series (ice skating season and a flurry of _Yuri on Ice_ gifs all over the place certainly helped!).  
Right now, I'm reworking the posted chapters to update them with more knowledge and better writing, so expect changes there. I am also working on writing new chapters that I will hopefully put up in the coming months. Thank you for your interest in my story, and I hope you'll enjoy the new material!

I will delete this when I start adding new chapters.

EDIT (2/7/2017): The first two chapters are now rewritten and reposted! Check them out!

EDIT: (2/17/2017): The third chapter has been rewritten and reposted!

EDIT: (2/19/2017): The fourth chapter has been rewritten and reposted!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is both the largest story I've written solo and my first Big Bang. I humbly apologize for not being done with it, but a surprise trip and way too much inspiration really set me back. I'll get the rest done as soon as I can. Thank you for your patience.
> 
> Comments are always welcome!! If you'd like anything clarified or expanded upon, let me know. I might have a headcanon attached to it, or a bonus scene I thought of but didn't think fit the story there.
> 
> If you see any major skating inaccuracies, PLEASE TELL ME! I'm going off what my research garnered, but I could use an insider's insight. 
> 
> Chapter lengths will vary.


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